


it was always you (falling for me)

by iclaimedtobethebetterbard (foolofaperegrin)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aromantic Logic | Logan Sanders, Asexual Deceit | Janus Sanders, Autistic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativitwins, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Has ADHD, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Has ADHD, Demiboy Logic | Logan Sanders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Genderfluid Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Nonbinary Logic | Logan Sanders, Other, Queerplatonic Intrulogical, Queerplatonic Intrulosleep, Queerplatonic Relationships, References to Shakespeare, Trans Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, enemies is overstating it though, it's more like rivals to friends to lovers, queerplatonic losleep - Freeform, trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolofaperegrin/pseuds/iclaimedtobethebetterbard
Summary: In a world where you and your soulmate swap dreams once a month, seven young adults enter the same college as freshmen. Each of them is wondering when they'll find their soulmate and what that will mean for them.Remus and Logan are hoping to find their missing third soulmate.Remy knows he has two soulmates. He figures that means it'll be twice the work to find them, so he's trying to get started early, but none of the dates he's tried so far have been the ones and he feels discouraged.Patton isn't really focused on finding his soulmate; he wants to let the universe decide when they meet. Little does he know, the universe already did.Janus is smitten with his soulmate, but he's afraid he might have messed things up with him before he even knew he had a chance.Roman has been daydreaming of an amazing romance with the one meant for him since he was a kid.And Virgil?Virgil is terrified of finding their soulmate. They'd rather just bicker with Roman in the university library about the meaning of romance in Shakespeare. Which is a totally platonic activity. Obviously.This is my gift for the sanderssidesgiftxchange on Tumblr! My giftee is sanders-sides-fics on Tumblr.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman & Dark Creativity | Remus & Logic | Logan (Sanders Sides), Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	1. Virgil

“Sorry I’m late, calculus was a—you’re not Remus.” Virgil stared at the boy, who was sitting at the library table Virgil always met Remus at. 

The weird thing was that he _looked_ a lot like Remus. Same prominent nose, same rich sparkling brown eyes and brown skin, but a smaller build; where Remus was gangly and full of sharp angles, this boy was compact and stocky, looking both softer and more muscular than Remus. His cheeks were rounder and softer than Remus’s, and his mouth was softer too—Virgil was _almost_ sure the vivid pink color of his lips must come from lipstick. His hair was the same loose brown curls as Remus’s, but his curls were tidier and shorter than Remus’s, without the dyed streak that Remus had. He was cleanshaven, too, with an outfit much more jock-y than Remus would wear. 

“I’m Roman. Remus is my brother,” the boy said, and Virgil instantly felt like an idiot. _Right._ Remus had a twin. They _knew_ that. Remus talked about him sometimes. Virgil just hadn’t expected to meet him like this. 

They hadn’t expected him to be _cute._

“Oh.” Virgil stared at Roman for a moment, holding their backpack half-on, half-off, unsure of whether they should take a seat or not. “Why are you here?” 

Roman frowned, a soft little pout. “I’m waiting for Remus, he’s _late._ ” He crossed his arms, and Virgil did their best not to stare at his biceps—listen, it wasn’t their fault the dude was wearing that red tank top; it was practically _designed_ to draw attention to how muscular his arms were. 

“Yeah, no shit he’s late. But like. Why are you waiting for him?” It was only midway through the third week of the quarter, but Remus and Virgil had already formed a habit of meeting up at this table by the library’s indoor cafe every Tuesday and Thursday to do homework together; they each had a free hour between classes, and it was in a convenient location, and they helped to keep each other on task. Roman? Roman was not a part of this equation. And Virgil didn’t appreciate him showing up with no warning and throwing the normal order of operations off. 

“He borrowed my calculator last week and I need it back today, he said to meet him here.” Roman hadn’t uncrossed his arms. “Who are _you?”_

“I’m Virgil. Remus is my roommate.” Virgil decided they might as well sit at this point, so they slid their backpack onto the worn wooden bench opposite Roman and sat beside it, pulling out their Psychology reading. 

“Ohh.” Roman slowly uncrossed his arms and rested his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his hands. “He didn’t say anyone else would be here.” 

“Sounds like him,” Virgil commented. “We do homework here. He must not have thought to mention it.” 

Roman grinned, quick and bright. “That makes sense, he _is_ a dumbass sometimes.” 

“He really is,” Virgil agreed with a small chuckle. 

There was a beat of awkward silence; Roman was eyeing Virgil curiously. Virgil did their best to ignore it as they pulled out their notes. They knew perfectly well how androgynous they looked; it was on purpose. Didn’t make it less annoying when people stared. 

“Hey, by the way, what are your pronouns?” Roman asked. 

Well. That was a lot better than “are you a boy or a girl?” Virgil had to admit, they were pleasantly surprised. “He/they/ze,” Virgil said. 

Roman nodded. “Mine are he/him. Ze like ze/hir, or xe/xem, or something else?” 

Virgil blinked. They _really_ hadn’t expected that. “Ze/hir,” they said, a little less brusque. 

“Cool.” Roman nodded again. “Are you a freshman too?”

“Yeah. I’m your twin’s roommate, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” That little splash of metaphorical cold water didn’t seem to dim the interest on Roman’s face. “What’s your major?” 

“Psychology. I’m planning to build my own concentration focusing on gender and sexuality.” 

“That sounds cool,” Roman enthused. “I’m a Theatre major!” 

Somehow, Virgil wasn’t surprised. 

“That’s neat,” they said politely, opening the Psychology textbook to the reading for this week. 

Roman nodded eagerly, curls bouncing; he then reached up to pat them back into place. “I’m really _really_ liking it so far—we’re actually using _Romeo and Juliet_ in one class I’m in to practice running lines, it’s _so_ romantic and adorable!” 

Virgil looked up from their Psych textbook. They normally didn't have strong opinions when it came to Shakespeare, but in their high school English class sophomore year, they’d gotten into an unspoken competition with the annoying boy who sat next to them to see who could get the better grade. They’d won, of course, and in the process they’d done a lot of thinking about _Romeo and Juliet._ To hear Roman describing the play as romantic? Worse, _adorable?_ Those were fighting words, in Virgil’s opinion. “Excuse me?” 

“What?” Roman looked confused, blinking at Virgil with wide brown eyes. 

“Did you just call _Romeo and Juliet_ ‘adorable and romantic’?” Virgil demanded, gearing up for a fight. Roman had _better_ not bring up the soulmate argument; people always tended to focus on the fact that Romeo and Juliet had a soulbond, in Virgil’s experience. They had _plenty_ of counterarguments for that, but they were sick of hearing about it. Just because Romeo and Juliet were soulmates didn’t make the story better. 

“Well, yeah!” Roman responded. “I mean, look how much they risked for true love!” He paused and winced. “Admittedly, it didn’t pay off, but that was due to some honest mistakes! They’re the _original_ star-crossed lovers, for goodness’ sake!” 

Virgil rolled their eyes. “Dude, they were teenagers, it lasted for like three days, and six people died. Also, Romeo was a total womanizer who was _just_ as infatuated with Rosaline _hours_ before he met Juliet. Nothing about that screams ‘romantic’ to me.” 

Roman huffed, looking scandalized. “Listen, just because there are darker thematic elements doesn’t mean you have to focus on the bad stuff! I mean, look at Romeo and Juliet themselves! Their families _hated_ each other, but they chose to focus on their true love, and let that overcome all their problems!” 

Virgil shook their head. “Okay, but like, can we circle back to the part where they had just met _that same evening?_ They didn’t have _time_ to build something stable or healthy enough to be called ‘true love.’” 

“They are _literal_ soulmates, okay?” Roman’s voice rose, together with Virgil’s spirits. He’d brought up the soulbond, and they were _ready_ to decimate whatever argument he was going to base on that. “Just because they died before they could confirm they were actually soulmates doesn’t mean—” 

“But that’s the thing! They died _not knowing_ whether or not they were soulmates, that’s how brand-new their relationship was! There was nothing solid there!” Virgil pressed. 

“But Juliet _choosing_ to take a chance on someone who _might_ be her soulmate, instead of letting her father pressure her into a marriage with someone she _knew_ wasn’t? That’s amazing! Her monologue about that choice is one of the best moments in the entire play!” Roman waved his hands in the air as he spoke, punctuating his sentences with emphatic gestures. 

“I’m just saying, it’s not exactly what comes to mind when someone says ‘adorable and romantic,’” Virgil insisted. “And besides, even if Juliet was asserting her autonomy or whatever—”

“‘Or whatever,’ ze says! ‘Or whatever,’ you _know_ I’m right, you just don’t want to admit it!” 

“—Romeo was still kind of a shitbag fuckboy. I mean, he didn’t know who his soulmate was, and he didn’t really seem to care. He tried to get with _multiple_ women without thinking about their soulbond at all.” 

“He was _in love!_ Can you blame him? And he got it right in the end. Stop focusing on Rosaline, she was mainly just a plot device to set up the way he meets Juliet!” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Wow, cherry-picking your arguments, much? You can’t just shove Rosaline to the side and discount her just because her existence contradicts your interpretation.”

Roman crossed his arms. “Uh, I _can_ and I _will,_ watch me. And Romeo was loads better for Juliet than _Paris_ would have been! He _literally was her soulmate,_ which you keep discounting, so the cherry-picking argument goes both ways here, I feel like.” Roman’s little pouty frown was back.

Virgil sighed in exasperation. “Listen!” They slammed their hands down on the table. “There’s a difference between finding your soulmate, being widowed, and seeking to remarry after the fact, like Paris did, and marrying someone without knowing or caring enough to even _try_ to confirm if they’re your soulmate, like Romeo did. We can condemn Paris and Juliet’s betrothal from a modern standpoint, but the fact remains that women of Shakespeare’s time were often denied the opportunity to look for their soulmate. They were expected to marry for status and money, and just have an affair if they ever did find their soulmate. Paris would have provided Juliet with a home and everything she needed, and since he’d once been married to his soulmate and knew what it was like, he likely would have been very understanding if she and Romeo ever got close enough to confirm they were soulmates. Juliet has to choose between an unpleasant but ultimately very liveable compromise, and throwing everything away for literally a hair-thin chance. And she _dies_ because of her choice. It’s stupid.” Virgil sat back and crossed their arms. 

“But she was still _right!”_ Roman insisted. “Romeo _was_ her soulmate, it’s textually confirmed by the parallel scenes where Romeo talks about his souldream to Mercutio and Juliet talks about hers to the Nurse, and we as the audience can see that they were sharing each other’s dreams! The point is that Juliet is choosing between a life of security without love, and risking everything for love, and that making that choice is worth it no matter the outcome because she was happy with Romeo!” Roman jumped to his feet and began pacing back and forth along the length of the table. “The tragic ending is a scathing social commentary examining how the system was stacked against her to the point where even once she found her soulmate, human error could still steal everything away from her, and ultimately arguing that that system is flawed and making an argument in favor of prioritizing soulmate marriages over political ones!” 

“The tragic ending is commentary about how stupid it was to throw away her security in a system that wouldn’t take care of her otherwise. You can have ideals all you want, but at the end of the day, you still live within a society and have to work within its confines,” Virgil countered. “That comes up again in the subplot about Mercutio’s death emphasizing his inability to marry his soulmate Benvolio, because the system also prioritized heterosexual marriage over any other form of relationship.” Virgil regretted the words as soon as they said them, realizing that Roman could easily use that subplot in favor of his own point. They could have made their argument without bringing that in. Now he had more fuel—if he realized it. 

Roman, who was still pacing, froze, the annoyance on his face melting into an expression of sheer delight. “Wait, you like the ‘Mercutio and Benvolio as soulmates’ interpretation, too?” he asked, the argument seemingly forgotten. 

Virgil snorted, hiding their relief that he hadn’t noticed the easy win they’d accidentally handed him. “Dude, it’s barely an interpretation, it’s basically right there in the text.” 

“Scholars have tried to erase it for centuries, though!” Roman was bouncing on his feet, flapping his hands back and forth in excitement; he seemed absolutely thrilled that Virgil was agreeing with him on this point. 

Over Roman’s shoulder, Virgil caught sight of Remus, all the way on the opposite side of the library; he was walking purposefully towards the table, but when he met their eyes, he grinned, waved, and made an exaggerated shushing motion. Virgil looked back to Roman, who clearly hadn’t noticed Remus. They saw no reason to give Remus away and spoil his fun. 

“Homophobia doesn’t take away from the textual canon.” Virgil shrugged.

“Oh, that’s a _really_ good way of phrasing that, actually.” Roman looked impressed. “I might need to steal that, there’s this one guy in my class that I keep getting into arguments with.” 

“Sure, feel free. Get his ass.” Normally Virgil might take issue with someone wanting to use their ideas, but to annoy a homophobe, all was fair game as far as they were concerned. 

“Thank you, I’ll do my best.” Roman beamed. 

Remus slowed to a tiptoe as they neared the table, snuck up right behind Roman, and bopped the top of Roman’s head with the flat of his palm. “Boo!” 

Roman _shrieked_ and flailed his arms wildly, leaping to his feet; Remus, laughing uproariously, had already ducked into a well-practiced crouch, and Roman’s hands sailed right over his head. 

“Hi, Ro,” he said, standing up and easily sliding onto the bench at the table where Roman had just been sitting. “Hi Virge!” 

“You’re late, asshat,” Virgil said amiably. 

“Yeah, sorry, I had to stay after class and ask my professor something, and the guy who got to him before me took _forever._ I could practically have decomposed my entire corpse by the time it was my turn.” 

“Gross!” Roman commented brightly, hugging Remus from behind and resting his chin on top of Remus’s head. “Also, I hate you.” 

“Yeah, I can really tell that from your tone of voice,” Remus said dryly, but he reached up and patted Roman’s face, nearly poking him in the eye. “I see you two are getting along well.” 

“No!” Roman whined. “Virgil’s _mean!”_

“Awwww, you poor thing.” Remus made an overexaggerated face of sympathy. “Were they winning?” 

“Yeah,” Virgil said with a chuckle.

“No!” Roman protested at the same time, stamping his foot. 

“Gotcha,” Remus said, nodding sagely. 

“Romeo and Juliet were _soulmates,_ Remus!” Roman said insistently, grabbing Remus’s sleeve.

Remus nodded, grinning. “Yeah. And they died. With lots of blood and stabbing. Also poison, which is sick. Do you want my fake blood recipe for your class? It’s awesome, I have a gushy version and a viscous version.”

“Ew! No!” Roman batted at Remus’s arm, sitting on the bench beside him. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“A lot, thank you for asking!” Remus beamed. “Shouldn’t you be totally into my fake blood, though? Since you’re so big on soulmates?”

“Why would I _possibly—_ ” Roman began in disgust.

“Because Logan helped me with the formula for the viscous one!” Remus interrupted before Roman could even finish the question. “Cute soulmate bonding activities, am I right?”

Virgil had met Remus’s queerplatonic partner a couple of times, and from what they knew of him, yeah, that checked out. 

“Are you _kidding?”_ Roman demanded. 

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Remus responded. “No, I’m serious. It was fantastic, he helped me figure out the exact ratio of cornstarch to make it look the most realistic, and then I got to pose like a dead body with it all over me and he took pictures! Wanna see?” He was already reaching for his phone. 

“No! No, that’s fine, I believe you!” Roman tried to grab the phone, but only succeeded in knocking it out of Remus’s hands onto the floor. 

Remus leaned down to pick it up, snickering; as he straightened back up, Virgil was struck by how, even seated, he was still significantly taller than Roman. 

“Can I have my calculator back, though?” Roman asked.

“Oh, right.” Remus dug into his backpack, scattering loose papers across the table. 

Roman picked a couple of food wrappers out of the pile and set them to one side, making a face. 

“Here it is!” Remus said triumphantly, pulling out the calculator and holding it aloft. “I didn’t even lose the case, see?” 

“Great job, I’m very proud of you.” Roman accepted the calculator and slid it into his own backpack, then gathered up the food wrappers off the table. “You shouldn’t leave these in there with your homework.” 

“Oh, I know, I just forget sometimes. I throw ’em away eventually.” Remus seemed unconcerned. 

“That’s _disgusting,”_ Roman said, getting up and walking to the trash can a couple of tables away to dispose of them. 

“Thank you!” Remus said, though whether he was referring to Roman throwing away the trash or just to being called “disgusting” was unclear. He pulled out a notebook, flipped it open, and began running his finger slowly down the page, mouthing to himself. 

Roman shook his head and sighed as he returned to the table. “I should probably go now. Let you study, or whatever.” He picked up his backpack and slung it across his shoulders. “See you later, Rem. Nice to meet you, Virgil, even if you have totally wrong opinions about Shakespeare.” 

“Nice to meet you too, even if you’re a sore loser,” Virgil responded easily. 

“I did not _lose!”_ Roman insisted. 

“Whatever.” Virgil snickered. “Catch you later.” 

“Bye,” Remus added, not looking up from his notes. 

Roman nodded and walked off. Virgil watched him go. So that was Remus’s brother; not really what they’d expected. He _had_ made some good points about Romeo and Juliet, not that Virgil would admit it; he clearly knew his stuff. 

“Are you checking him out?” Remus demanded, following Virgil’s gaze to Roman, who was by now nearly out of the library.

“What? _No!”_ Virgil spluttered, grabbing a pencil from the mess Remus had spread across the table and throwing it at his head. “He’s just. Got a lot of muscles. That’s all. Shut _up!”_ they added when Remus looked like he was about to begin laughing. 

“Iiiinteresting,” Remus commented with an evil chuckle. Virgil threw a crumpled paper at him. He batted it aside, eyeing them up and down. “You’re not his usual type, but I could see him being into your, like, dark and brooding thing. Plus you have the whole gender fuckery with your presentation going on, and that’s just _objectively_ hot. Like, I’m gay as shit and I can still tell you’re _super_ hot,” he added matter-of-factly. 

“Cool. Good thing I’m _not interested in him,_ so it’s _irrelevant,_ so you can _shut up now.”_ Face burning, Virgil pulled their Psych textbook closer. It wasn’t like Roman was his soulmate or anything, anyway, so it didn’t matter if he _happened_ to be—objectively—very cute, or if the way he’d gotten so passionate about the argument was—theoretically—kind of attractive. Virgil had long since decided they had too much anxiety to date people without knowing first if they were soulmates or not. And you didn’t just _ask_ people about their souldreams, that was _personal;_ Virgil only knew one person they’d really be comfortable talking about souldreams with. 

“ _Sure,_ you’re ‘not interested,’” Remus said, but he seemed to be letting it go, resuming his perusal of his notes. 

Virgil had fully relaxed and was halfway through the reading when Remus reached over and poked them.

“What?”

“I could totally tell you what times he goes to the gym to work out, so you could watch.” Remus waggled his eyebrows. 

Virgil threw another paper at him as he dissolved into giggles. “Shut _up!”_

***

A week or so later, Virgil topped the slight hill that led to hir dorm, pace quickening as the building finally came into sight. Ze’d had a long day and was ready to collapse on hir bed and drown hir thoughts in hir Sudoku app for a while. Ze pulled out hir key as ze approached the door to the building. 

“Virgil!” a voice called. 

Virgil looked up; Roman was waving wildly at hir as he got up from one of the benches outside the building and jogged over, and—wow, okay, he was wearing a crop top, and his arms were _not_ the only muscular thing about him. 

“Hi,” Virgil said uncertainly, trying hard to keep their eyes on his face and not… anywhere else. Ze hadn’t thought people just casually went around having visible abs in real life. 

“Can you let me in? Remus asked me to come over and help with an essay, but he hasn’t answered my texts yet, and the door’s locked.” 

“Sure,” Virgil said, suppressing a sigh; there went peace and quiet for the next hour, in all likelihood. 

“How have your classes been going?” Roman asked, snapping his fingers repetitively, as they walked up the stairs together—Remus and Virgil’s dorm was on the third floor. 

“Fine,” Virgil said shortly. 

“Cool! Mine are mostly awesome, but I’m in this biology class and I _hate_ it, it’s so gross. Remus would totally love it, though. It’s a stupid GE and I have to take it but I can’t _stand_ it. There are _so_ many terrible textures I have to touch. And Remus and I aren’t even identical so I can’t make him take the final for me.” He pouted as he said this last part, as if it were the worst injustice known to humanity. “What’s the _point_ of having a twin if you aren’t identical and can’t help each other cheat on homework?”

That startled a laugh out of Virgil. “Damn, you’re _really_ not a fan of that class, huh?”

Roman shook his head emphatically, then smoothed his curls back into place before resuming his rhythmic finger-snapping. “Not one bit.” He brightened. “I _love_ my English class, though! The professor is so engaging and the assignments are lots of fun!” 

Virgil blinked at him. “I see why Remus wanted your help with an essay.” Actually _enjoying_ English classes? Who did _that?_

Roman nodded. “I’m _very_ good at essays,” he said seriously. 

Virgil stopped at the door to hir dorm and unlocked it. “Remus, please collect your noisy brother.” 

“I was making friendly conversation!” Roman spluttered. 

“Sounds noisy to me,” Remus said, tipping back in his chair so he could look at them upside-down. 

“Dude.” Virgil crossed the room speedily and pushed him forward so his chair stood on all four legs again. “Don’t fall and kill yourself, please.”

“I’ll be fine,” Remus said, waving his hand, but he didn’t tip his chair backwards again. 

Virgil looked back at Roman, who was still snapping his fingers quietly, almost as if he wasn’t thinking about it at all. “Why are you doing that?” ze asked. 

“What?” Roman startled and looked over at them. 

“Snapping your fingers like that,” Virgil clarified. 

Remus tensed just slightly; out of the corner of hir eye, Virgil could see him watching hir like a hawk. Which was a weird reaction, to say the least. Had hir tone been off, or something?

“Ohh,” Roman said, the confusion on his face clearing up at Virgil’s clarification. He hesitated for a beat. “It’s a stim, I’m autistic.” 

“Ah,” Virgil said. “Cool.” Ze shrugged, trying very hard not to acknowledge the way Remus was still watching hir. 

Roman paused. “Is it bothering you?” he asked uncertainly. “I can stop—”

“No, dude, you’re all good,” Virgil said quickly. The noise wasn’t bothering hir, only hir curiosity had been. “I just wondered why. I do that when I’m having trouble remembering something,” ze added, smiling a little. 

Roman relaxed and grinned back. “Oh, I do that too sometimes!” he said, sounding delighted. “Not now, but I know what you mean.” 

Remus finally relaxed and stopped staring at Virgil. Virgil hoped that meant ze hadn’t said anything egrigiously terrible. 

Remus sighed loudly and dramatically, gesturing at his laptop. “Ro, c’mere, look at this bullshit.” 

Roman came up beside Virgil and looked over Remus’s shoulder at his computer screen. “‘Write a four- to seven-page essay explaining what role your assigned historical event played in shaping the course of American politics. Cite at least three assigned sources,’” he read aloud. “Okay, what’s your assigned historical event?” 

“The gold rush,” Remus said plaintively, sprawling forward face-first across his desk. 

“Cool, what do you have so far?” Roman perched on the corner of the desk.

“Absolutely nothing,” Remus groaned into a textbook. 

“Really?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “Why am I here, then?”

Remus sighed and lifted his head. “I have some notes?”

Roman seemed to teeter between annoyance and optimism for a second before visibly taking a breath and straightening his shoulders. “Good! Let’s start there. I’m not writing this for you, you know,” he added warningly.

“Yeah, I know.” Remus wrinkled his nose, digging out a notebook and flipping through it.

Virgil climbed up onto hir bunk and pulled out hir headphones as the brothers settled in; Remus seemed to be, more or less, actually working, while Roman kept up a steady stream of chatter that Virgil couldn’t quite block out. Ze did hir level best anyway, and managed to lose hirself in Sudoku games for maybe half an hour before Roman’s voice rose. Virgil nudged one ear free, lifting hir head. 

“No, you have to put another comma,” Roman was saying emphatically, pointing at Remus’s computer screen.

“How come?” Remus demanded, overly whiny. 

“I—you _gotta,”_ Roman said; when Remus just gave him a look, he relented enough to add, “Because we stan the Oxford Comma in this household, okay? Eat a protein bar, you’re getting grumpy.” 

As Remus reached for the bowl of protein bars on the corner of his desk, Virgil couldn’t hold back a snicker. “I think the Oxford Comma is stupid,” ze put in, purely for the purpose of messing with Roman; ze was actually more inclined in favor of it, but it was one of those things where it was fun to bug those who had strong opinions about it.

Roman gasped like Virgil had personally murdered his hopes and dreams in cold blood, clutching his heart. “I’m sorry, _what?”_ he demanded.

Virgil shrugged, dangling hir legs over the end of hir bunk bed. “Dude, you heard me.” Ze turned up hir music a notch to tune out the tirade Roman was no doubt about to unleash and opened the Messages app to text Janus.

_hey, u busy?_

“I’m sorry, you _cannot_ just _say_ something like that like it’s _no big deal,”_ Roman began, and Virgil turned up the music another notch, looking at Roman very seriously and nodding along like ze was listening. Ze caught bits and snippets: “makes no _sense—_ if I said—you wouldn’t know if—you _need_ the Oxford Comma to—or you could end up looking like an accessory to _murder!”_

“Good,” Virgil and Remus said in unison.

Roman floundered for a moment. “No! Not good! Murder is _bad!”_ he finally snapped, voice going high with distress.

“Murder is sexy,” Remus said, sounding like he was barely holding back laughter. 

_“No!”_ Roman insisted, just as Virgil’s phone lit up with a reply from Janus. 

_Nah, not busy. What’s up?_

_can i come over?_

_PLEASE do_

_My day has been a disaster_

_omw_

Virgil shut off hir phone and pocketed it, glancing up at Roman, who seemed to be finishing up another tirade. 

“—so you see, it makes a _huge_ difference!” 

Virgil nodded very seriously, climbing down the ladder. “Okay, interesting,” ze said. “But you forgot one crucial point.”

“What’s that?” Roman demanded, hands on his hips.

“I don’t care.” Virgil smirked. “See you around.” Virgil gave him a two-fingered salute, picking up hir backpack as Roman gaped indignantly and Remus burst into cackles of amusement. 

“Oh, you two are _rich—_ we’ve got to hang out together more often, watching you bicker is the most fun I’ve had all day,” Virgil heard Remus saying to Roman as ze closed the door behind hir. 

Virgil walked down the hall to Janus’s room, pulled out the key Janus had copied for hir—which, yeah, was definitely illegal, but it wasn’t like either of them cared—and let hirself in. “Hey,” ze said.

“Hi,” Janus said. He was lying flat on his back on the floor, his arms sprawled outward like he was T-posing. His thin legs, in black skinny jeans, were propped up vertically against his bed, making him look almost like he was sitting upside-down. A hat was plopped dramatically over his face. “I hate everything,” he announced. 

“Mood. What happened?” Virgil plopped down on the floor next to Janus, leaning against the bed so that ze was facing him. 

“The professor in one of my classes assigned partners for a group project today,” Janus began. 

“Oh, gross,” Virgil said amiably. 

“No, no.” Janus made a “wait” motion, raising his hand to hold up one long finger before dropping his arm to the floor again. “It gets worse.” 

“Oh? Yikes.” 

“Yeah. So my group partner and I are talking about the project, right? And we exchange contact information.” Janus propped himself up on one elbow and took the hat off his face. “ _And I fucking know him.”_

“Yeah?” Virgil wasn’t sure where this was going. 

“We went to middle school together.” Janus pronounced it like a sentence of doom. 

“Okay?” Virgil still wasn’t seeing what was so terrible about this. Admittedly, ze hadn’t gone to the same middle school as Janus and hadn’t met him until high school, so ze wouldn’t know. “Does he, like, have blackmail material on you, or something?” ze inquired jokingly. 

Janus’s eyes widened, and he stared into space for a second. “Fuck. He totally does. I hadn’t even thought of that.” 

“...I’m sorry, what? What kind of stuff were you getting up to in middle school?” Virgil tried _very_ hard not to laugh. “Because like, I’ve got to tell you, freshman you was a total dork and not really blackmail-worthy.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Janus said fondly, swatting at Virgil’s knee. “No, but like, seriously. I was an asshole in middle school.”

“Isn’t everyone?” 

“Fair. But like, I was _such_ an asshole. Going through my edgy phase _and_ my depressed phase at once, and _super_ emotionally constipated.” 

Virgil made an exaggerated face of shock. “Sorry, those were phases? I thought that was just your entire identity as a person.” 

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Oh, does the lifelong emo have something to say?” 

“Wow, okay.” Virgil chuckled slightly. “I get it, I don’t have room to talk, and you were a _special_ asshole. Go on.” 

Janus sighed dramatically, letting his head drop back onto the floor, turning the hat over and over in his hands. “So like, there was this one kid in middle school who was just, like, sunshine and rainbows 24/7, right? He’s called Patton. He was _super_ nice to everyone. And he seemed really happy all the time. I was jealous, I think, so I was just a total asshole to him every chance I got. I think I even tripped him in the hall once.” 

“No,” Virgil said, beginning to see where this was going. “And this dude—”

“Uh-huh,” Janus said with an overdramatic moan, draping the hat back over his face. “It’s the same guy. I didn’t even know he _went_ here!” 

Virgil, to be quite honest, wasn’t totally sure how to respond, but Janus was someone it was always fine to be quiet around, so ze just waited. 

“Like, the worst part is it was literally _entirely_ my fault,” Janus went on. “He never did anything. Sure, I _told_ myself he did at the time, but like, looking back, it was all me. Maybe I would have gotten my act together and apologized eventually, but, you know.” He waved in Virgil’s direction. “I moved away in eighth grade and figured I was never going to see him again, and I don’t think I properly stopped being an asshole to everyone I knew until I met you.” 

“Oh, right, you met me and stopped being an asshole to everyone you knew so you could focus on just being an asshole to me? Yeah, I remember that,” Virgil teased lightly.

“Shut up.” Janus scooted closer so that he could lean against Virgil’s legs. “I feel really bad about it, is all. I literally had no reason for being so awful to him.” 

“Yikes,” was all Virgil could think to say. 

“Yeah,” Janus said miserably. 

“Does he realize it’s you?” Virgil asked after a moment.

“Sorry, how many people named ‘Janus Aspinwall’ do you know?” Janus snarked, pulling the hat off his face again. “ _Yes,_ he obviously recognized me. The smile fell right off his face and everything.”

“Yikes,” Virgil repeated.

 _“Yeah,”_ Janus agreed, smushing his face against Virgil’s shin in despair. “So I guess I’m never leaving my dorm again, basically, and I just have to die in a hole here.” 

“Was it that bad?”

Janus looked up. “No, actually. That’s the worst part. He was super nice about it. Like, I apologized, obviously—”

 _“Did_ you?”

“Yeah! I told him I was an asshole and I shouldn’t have been!”

“Did the words ‘I’m sorry,’ or anything to that effect, ever cross your lips?” Virgil pushed. Ze knew hir best friend. 

“Fuck,” Janus said after a pause. 

“Right.” Virgil sighed. “Telling him you shouldn’t have been an asshole is a good step, though,” ze added encouragingly. 

“I guess.” Janus shrugged with one shoulder. “He was really nice about it, like I said. He said he got it, or something. Which is total bullshit, I bet he’d cry if he stepped on an ant, there’s no way he ‘gets’ having been the worst twelve year old on the planet.” 

Virgil had a realization. “Jan.” 

“And like, it was super awkward for a few minutes, but he kept making these _puns_ and they weren’t even _good_ but there were so _many_ of them that I started laughing eventually, and he acted like we were _fine_ and _okay_ and _normal_ after that and we started focusing just on the project but there’s _no way_ he doesn’t secretly hate me, fuck, _I’d_ just _openly_ hate me in his place—”

“Jan!”

“—and like, he got _me_ to make some puns back, and he acted like he _liked_ them, and he was so _nice_ and acted like I was just a regular person and not some cheap stereotypical middle school _bully—”_

_“Janus!”_

“What?”

“You think he’s cute, right?”

“What?” Janus stared, uncomprehending, at Virgil. 

“You think he’s cute,” Virgil repeated. Ze waited for the ball to drop, counting down in hir head. Three… two… 

Janus’s eyes went _huge. “Fuck,”_ he said. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Virgil reached up and patted Janus’s knee consolingly where it rested against the bedframe. 

“You _asshole!_ Why’d you have to make me _realize_ it?” Janus demanded. “How am I supposed to act normal around him _now?”_

“I mean, based off listening to you talk about him for the last—” Virgil made a show of checking hir watch “—ten minutes, I’d bet good money you _already_ weren’t acting normal around him. But you know, to each their own.” 

Janus scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “He’s _really_ cute, Virgil,” he mumbled. 

“I’m sure. And it sounds like he’s taking your sort-of-apology better than most people would, so you have nothing to worry about, right?”

 _“Wrong,”_ Janus muttered vindictively, but he swung his legs down to the ground and hoisted himself up to sit next to Virgil and rest his head on hir shoulder. “Thanks, or whatever,” he added after a moment. 

Virgil reached up and patted his cheek. “Course, Janus,” ze said matter-of-factly. 

Honestly, Virgil kind of felt like it was a pity ze and Janus weren’t soulmates. Especially since meeting Remus’s partner Logan and learning soulmates didn’t _have_ to be romantic. Romance with Janus? Disgusting. It would never work. They’d tried once in ninth grade, because everyone kept assuming they were together, and it had been a relief to break up after two and a half days of sheer awkwardness. Virgil had no desire to repeat _that._ But being soulmates with your best friend? Hacking the soulmate system and not having to worry about being _right_ for someone you didn’t even know yet? That sounded pretty sweet. 

They _weren’t_ soulmates, of course. They were close enough that it wasn’t nosy or weird to talk about their souldreams, and so Virgil knew that their souldream nights weren’t aligned, and they _definitely_ weren’t getting each other’s dreams. Far from it. 

But it would make things so much less scary to just be soulmates with your best friend and not have to worry about dating. All the ups and downs that came with romance. The chance to mess it up or be less than someone wanted. Risking falling for someone only to find out you weren’t soulmates after all. You didn’t have to worry about any of that with friends—it was less complicated. 

Well. Ze and Janus had managed to make even friendship super complicated. But the Fight was past them. Nowadays friendship with Janus was as easy as breathing—it was just a part of Virgil. The awful eight months of the Fight aside, Janus had always been there for Virgil, and ze for him. They’d both been the first ones each of them had ever come out to and always had each other’s back. Janus had helped Virgil pick hir name. He was the only person Virgil came close to trusting unconditionally. Going through all the work of building that strong a relationship again, with another, entirely different person? That sounded _exhausting,_ and there was no way Virgil would get lucky enough to not mess it up _twice._

Plus, it wasn’t like Virgil was even that good at friendship in general—Janus was the first person who’d stuck around for longer than a year or two. If ze couldn’t even make friends right, how on earth was ze supposed to navigate a relationship with a _soulmate,_ who was supposed to be _forever?_ It would be so _simple_ if one solid friendship was enough and Virgil never had to be enough for anyone else.

Never had to risk letting hir soulmate down. 

Because Virgil kind of felt like the universe had probably messed up with hir when hir soulbond developed. Ze’d been sixteen by the time ze started having souldreams—not unheard of, but still very late. And from what Virgil could glean from hir soulmate’s dreams, ze was kind of the _last_ person hir soulmate would want. There was no way ze was right for this person. 

Sure, Virgil hadn’t _heard_ of anyone being rejected by their soulmate… ever, actually, but there had to be a first time for everything, right? And when it came to “messed up people who probably didn’t deserve soulmates,” Virgil didn’t really have a problem believing ze might be top of the list. Even after all Janus’s lectures about self-loathing being bad. 

So Virgil tried, really ze did, not to think about hir soulmate too much. Best not to get hir hopes up. But in spite of hirself, Virgil had a running list in hir head of things ze knew about hir soulmate. 

They liked Disney a _lot,_ first and foremost—Virgil’s souldreams were always rife with Disney characters, and souldreams were a peek into what your soulmate’s normal dreams were like. 

(Virgil always winced and tried not to think too hard about that, because, well. The regular nightmares ze had weren’t something ze’d wish on anyone else. Just one more thing to turn off hir soulmate before ze even met them.) 

Their dreams usually had complex storylines to them—Virgil wasn’t sure what that said about them, maybe that they had a vivid imagination? Regardless, it was always interesting. 

(Ze did their best to write down some of the stories in those dreams, to remember them better. Just because they were interesting. Not for sappy reasons, or anything.)

Virgil was also _nearly_ certain hir soulmate wasn’t cis, which… was a bigger relief than Virgil cared to admit, to be honest. At least out of all the reasons Virgil could think of for hir soulmate to reject hir, being genderfluid probably wasn’t one. 

Virgil’s souldreams were also frequented by faces that felt familiar, faces that were likely those of hir soulmate’s family or friends, but faces that Virgil had never seen in hir life. Faces that would one day be the key to locating hir soulmate. 

(Virgil hadn’t had any souldreams yet in the few weeks since ze’d arrived at college. Ze kind of wondered if maybe hir soulmate was starting college too, if they were making new friends whose faces might make it into Virgil’s souldreams.) 

Virgil’s soulmate seemed to either have bright, colorful, happy dreams, or else dreams about failing, about crushing insecurity that finally proved _right._

(Virgil worried about hir soulmate sometimes, especially after _those_ dreams.)

Virgil thought about hir soulmate more than ze cared to admit to anyone, even Janus. 

Would it be Virgil’s anxiety that turned them off? The nearly all-black wardrobe, so far removed from hir soulmate’s Disney taste? Would it be Virgil’s dark taste in music? Hir crabbiness and sarcasm? The fact that for years now, ze’d been unwittingly sending nightmares to hir soulmate? The way that, no matter how everyone else reassured Virgil time and time again, Virgil was sure that _something_ about hirself would be too much, not enough, too _wrong_ for hir soulmate? 

Would it be hir fear of rejection that ultimately doomed the relationship, a self-fulfilling prophecy before ze even gave hir soulmate a chance? 

Virgil was kind of terrified of finding hir soulmate, if ze was honest with hirself. 

But that was a problem for Future Virgil. _Now_ Virgil was here, sitting on the floor of Janus’s dorm, and Janus was curled up beside hir after panicking to hir over a cute boy and his puns. 

Janus, still leaning on Virgil’s shoulder, reached up and tugged the long ends of Virgil’s undercut to cover his face like a curtain. “Much as I’m inclined to believe you wanted to come over solely to listen to me gay panic— _panic._ Pan-ic, get it, because I’m panromantic? Oh, god, his puns are infecting me. Anyway, was there any other reason you asked to come over?” 

“What, am I not allowed to just hang out with you?” Virgil cracked a grin that ze didn’t quite feel, dragging hirself the rest of the way out of hir gloomy thoughts. 

“You are. And you do.” Janus gave hir a shrewd look. “But when you do, you don’t ask if it’s okay to come over first. You only ask first if you want support.” 

“Right, okay.” Virgil had to admit Janus’s reasoning was sound. “Remus’s brother was over and he’s super loud,” ze explained. 

“Ah, the famous brother. What’s he like?” 

“Loud.”

“You already said that. What _else?”_

“Loud.” 

Virgil could practically _feel_ Janus rolling his eyes. “This is highly educational.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Virgil relented. “He has a lot of opinions about everything. He’s a theatre major and he’s super proud of it. He’s fit as _hell_ and just _has_ to wear these fucking sleeveless shirts that show it off—Jan, he was wearing a _crop top,_ I don’t want to stare at some opinionated asshole’s abs all day.” 

“Then don’t,” Janus suggested, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Sounds allo, can’t relate.” 

“Shut up, I am _not_ attracted to him!” 

“I’m sure,” Janus said, the amusement in his voice growing into much more than a hint. When Virgil glared at him, he shrugged and waved it away. “Sorry. Go on.” 

“But yeah, he’s like this weird hybrid of jock and theatre kid. I picked a fight with him about the Oxford Comma to annoy him.” 

“Always a worthy endeavor. Sorry you had to put up with that.” Janus dug in his pocket and pulled out a pair of tangled earbuds. “Want to listen to Bright Eyes?”

“Oh, you know it.” The tension in hir shoulders starting to melt away, Virgil accepted the earbuds to unpick with glee as Janus began pulling up the artist on Spotify. 

***

Virgil sighed, putting down his pencil and looking up. “What do you want?”

“Wow, rude much?” Roman, standing before him in yet another mostly-red outfit that showcased _way too many_ of his muscles, put his hands on his hips. “I only wanted to know if this seat is free.” 

“If I say no, will you believe me?” Virgil tried. 

Roman pursed his lips. “Not after you phrased it like that, no.” He plopped into the comfy library chair beside Virgil, setting his backpack down on the low coffee table in front of it. 

Virgil allowed himself to hope that maybe, _maybe,_ this time, Roman would let him study in peace and quiet—

“How are midterms going?” 

There it was. 

“Fine,” Virgil said in a low voice. The first floor of the library wasn’t really expected to be quiet, but maybe Roman didn’t know that. 

“That’s cool,” Roman said, his voice at a normal volume. “Mine are mostly going alright, except for Bio, of course, but it was a given that Bio would be terrible. Are yours mostly projects or tests?”

“Tests,” Virgil replied. 

“Mine are a good mix of both! In my theatre class we actually get to just do a monologue that’s at least a minute long, we’re spacing them out across a few weeks. Mine is this Friday, I’m really excited!”

“Cool,” Virgil said, when Roman paused expectantly. 

Roman pouted. “Why don’t you ever want to talk to me?”

“Why do _you_ always insist on talking to me?” Virgil countered. 

Roman’s shoulders drew inwards ever so slightly, uncertainty flickering in his eyes and a startled, hurt expression landing on his face. He stared at Virgil with slightly parted lips for a beat. “Do you—not want me to talk to you?” he asked, shrinking into himself. 

Virgil’s heart gave an unexpected, painful little twist at how _quickly_ all of Roman’s self-confidence had vanished, like a popped balloon. “I—uh—n-no,” he managed to stammer out after a pause. “I don’t mind, I guess.” 

Roman searched his face, evaluating Virgil didn’t know what, before relaxing slightly. “Okay,” he said, and just like that the bright attitude was back, like it had never been gone in the first place, only now it left Virgil wondering just how real it was. “Are you an introvert, then, and that’s why you never want to talk? I bet you’re an introvert.” 

“Dude, yeah. Like, have you seen me? Duh.” Virgil gestured vaguely at himself. “Also I’m an asshole.” 

“Well, now you’re just being mean. Stop it,” Roman demanded playfully. 

“It’s just to myself, who cares?” Janus cared, Virgil’s brain treacherously reminded him. But Janus was his best friend, he didn’t count. Nobody else cared, anyway, so the point still stood. 

“ _I_ care!” Roman protested. “Nobody talks about my friends like that.” 

Something about the easy way he said it made Virgil’s heart do a funny little flip in his chest. Harsh and quick, to distract from how _flustered_ he suddenly felt, he snapped, “Dude, we are _not_ friends.” 

“Okay, maybe not yet. Nobody talks about my brother’s friends like that, either, so it still stands.” Roman beamed at him. 

Virgil was having trouble coming up with cutting arguments on a stomach that was suddenly _squirming_ with a weirdly _okay_ feeling of lightness and softness. “Whatever,” he managed gruffly after a minute. “You still didn’t answer _my_ question.” 

Roman tipped his head to one side. “What, why I want to talk to you even though you’re always so grumpy?”

“Yeah. That one.” 

“Well, sometimes I’m bored. Sometimes you’re not that grumpy.” Roman ticked them off on his fingers. “Also we argue a lot, if you haven't noticed, and it’s kind of fun sometimes, and I need to _win.”_

Virgil couldn’t help a chuckle, sitting a little more upright in the soft red chair. “Is that so? I told you you’re a sore loser.” 

“Am not! I just know I’m _right!”_

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, pretty boy. What’s it going to be this time?” 

Roman paused for about half a second. “We’re reading Macbeth in my theatre class,” he said, an odd note to his voice that Virgil dismissed. 

“Oh, hell yes. Love that one.” Virgil rested his chin on his hand studiously. What angle would make Roman the most mad? Probably dissing on soulmates. “I mean, an examination of how soulbonds can become toxic? That’s rare, even today.” Okay, so that interpretation was a stretch at _best—_ all the murder didn’t really have anything to do with Macbeth and Lady Macbeth’s soulbond—but he was pretty sure it would get Roman yammering on for hours. 

As predicted, Roman’s mouth made a round little _o_ of indignation, and he held up both palms in a _stop_ motion. “Okay, hold up, are you not going to acknowledge that _he was cursed by the witches?_ Of _course_ nothing in his life was going to go right after that!”

Virgil snorted. “Curse who? All I see are some friendly old ladies with a sick aesthetic doing their best to emulate cryptids, as we all should.” He was perfectly aware that this was a ridiculous argument, but he was pretty sure Roman’s argument wasn’t all that solid either, and anyway he didn’t really care at this point so long as it got some sort of entertaining reaction out of Roman.

Roman blinked at him in confusion for a solid moment. “...Wouldn’t they just… _be_ cryptids, though?” he said tentatively. 

“Eh. Semantics.” Virgil waved his hand with a grin, allowing himself to fully slip into the fun of the argument, which lasted for a solid forty minutes before Virgil had to leave for his next class. 

He didn’t realize until he was nearly asleep later that night that he’d unthinkingly called Roman “pretty boy.” The thought startled him fully alert all in an instant. Had he—had he _really—_ said _that?_

Yeah. He definitely had. To Roman’s face. 

He’d meant it, too. 

_Fuck._


	2. Roman

Roman had a problem. A person-shaped problem. Specifically, a problem shaped like his brother’s _excessively_ pretty roommate, who seemed to take pleasure exclusively in needling Roman every chance they got. 

Roman groaned, burying his face in one of the pillows on his bed. 

“Hm?” his roommate, Patton, said sympathetically. 

“I swear Virgil has, like, an _agenda_ against soulmates, or something,” Roman said, rolling over and staring despairingly at the ceiling. 

“Now, kiddo, I’m sure that’s not true.” 

Roman lifted his head to look at Patton. “Aren’t I older than you?” 

“Only by a few months,” Patton said serenely. “Spiritually, you’re my kiddo.” 

“Pat, that makes no sense.” 

Patton blinked up at him with a too-innocent face. “If it feels _dad_ to you, just don’t think about it any _father.”_

“Oh my _god.”_

Patton giggled, a noise of pure delight, then circled back to Roman’s original topic. “What makes you think he’s got something against soulmates?”

“Uh, the way ze rails against them at every opportunity, for a start?” Roman sat up. “We have argued _five times_ in the last two weeks about soulmates, and only three of them were even about Shakespeare like usual!”

“Haven’t you only known Virgil for, like, three weeks?” 

“Well, yes, but that’s not the _point.”_ Roman climbed down the ladder to the ground. “Also, I feel like that makes it worse?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Patton seemed amused. “You talk about them a lot, you know?”

“He’s so _annoying!”_ Roman said defensively. “Ze gets this stupid _smirk_ like ze knows something I don’t and he doesn’t even seem to care about constructing sound arguments half the time!” He put his laptop into his backpack. 

“Going somewhere?” Patton asked. 

“Yeah, Virgil and Remus invited me over to their dorm to study.” 

“Oh,” Patton said, a funny sort of look on his face like he was trying not to laugh. 

“What?” Roman asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Patton waved him away, still smiling to himself. “Have fun studying with Virgil.” 

“I will,” Roman said brightly, heading out the door. 

***

“I want to go get ice cream,” Remus announced suddenly, hopping to his feet. “Who’s coming with?” It was late, almost midnight, and Roman was sitting on the floor in what _had_ been a nice triangle with Remus and Virgil until Remus had stood. The three of them had been alternately working on homework and arguing about Disney characters. 

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug, tugging their hoodie up onto their shoulders—they’d been wearing it dangling off their body, with only their wrists in the sleeves holding it on. “Let me fix my eyeliner first, though.” 

Remus nodded distractedly, looking around the room and turning in a circle.

“Whatcha looking for?” Roman inquired, getting to his feet as well.

“My wallet,” Remus said, gaze still roving around. “I don’t know where I—”

“By your chapstick,” Roman said. 

_“Ah!”_ Remus dove under his desk, scrabbled on the floor, and emerged with his wallet clutched triumphantly in one hand and his chapstick in the other. _“Thank_ you.” 

“How the _fuck_ did you know that?” Virgil asked, turning away from the mirror hung on the door with their eyeliner in their hand. They’d reapplied it to one eye, in a perfect, pointed wing; the other eye still had the only slightly less perfect, barely faded wing they’d been wearing this whole time. It matched their black lipstick and the carefully blended eyeshadow on their upper eyelids. 

“He put it down there when he was telling the story about trying to collect dried gum off the street,” Roman explained. “And the chapstick was already there right next to it. So that’s how I remembered.” 

Remus nodded. “I would have gotten there in a minute, probably,” he agreed.

“I still don’t understand how the _fuck_ you knew that, but good for y’all, I guess,” Virgil said, turning back to the mirror. 

“ADHD solidarity,” Roman explained. 

Remus made finger guns at him, nodding. “ADHD solidarity,” he agreed. 

Virgil paused halfway through drawing the other wing on. “Oh, that makes sense.” They picked up the line again, their hand perfectly steady, drawing it out to a fine point. “I thought you said you were autistic?” they added after a moment, their face holding perfectly still as they filled in the eyeliner with a practiced hand; their monolid eyelids allowed them to draw the wings of their eyeliner wide and dramatic.

“Yeah, I’m both. There are high rates of comorbidity, and also they’re both genetic, so neurodivergence runs in families,” Roman explained, the sentence rolling out of his mouth without him stumbling over the words once or having to think about it at all. “Did you know about ten percent of the population is probably ADHD?” he went on eagerly. “It’s super underdiagnosed. Especially because of race and gender biases in doctors who diagnose it, and the misconception that it’s only something children have. I only got diagnosed because Remus did when we were little, and we’re twins, so then they tested me too. Even though we aren’t identical. It’s _super_ frequent for identical twins to both have ADHD if one of them has it, though.” Roman bounced on the balls of his feet, tapping the tip of his finger against his thumb. “I wish we _were_ identical, I think it’d be so funny. Like, impersonating each other, and things. We could make _such_ good video skits.” 

“We make _fantastic_ video skits already,” Remus protested.

“Okay, fair. But you know what I mean. And we could switch places for a day and see who noticed. All the stuff twins do in stories. Twins are _always_ identical in stories, it’s so annoying, I wish there were more stories with fraternal twins.” Roman paused for a second, his mind hovering for an instant between a not-fully-realized train of thought about the gender politics of twin representation in stories and the question of what animals were most likely to have twins. He chose, almost before he was aware there _was_ a choice, the animals question, his emotions nudging him away from the energy talking about gender representation would take up. “Do you think kittens dream?” he asked, only a second or two after he’d stopped talking in the first place. 

“Yeah, probably,” Remus responded without missing a beat, likely following his train of thought. “Better question, do other animals have soulbonds, and how do they know if so?” 

“Maybe it’s a scent thing,” Roman said thoughtfully. 

“Ooh, like with glands or some shit?” Remus looked thoughtful. “That could make sense. I wonder—I bet there’s answers on the internet. I’m going to look this up later. Are you coming, too, by the way? To get ice cream?” 

Roman thought it over. “Sure,” he agreed. 

“I’m ready,” Virgil announced, capping their eyeliner and setting it down on hir desk. “Also, I got whiplash about five times just _listening_ to that conversation.” 

“Good, my chaos is overtaking another victim and soon I shall rule the world. Let’s go!” Remus led the other two out the door and started walking towards the end of campus. 

“Where are we going, exactly?” Roman inquired, shoving his hands into the pockets of his red letterman jacket to keep them warm. 

“There’s an ice cream shop that’s open till one in the morning about ten minutes away walking,” Remus said over his shoulder. “Logan and I found it the first weekend here.” 

“You two went in search of sweets without me?” Roman put a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt,” he declared in his most dramatic voice. 

“Oh, shut up, we would have gotten around to telling you about it eventually. I mean, I’m telling you right now, so.” Remus shrugged. “Virge, aren’t you cold?” 

“Yeah, but I’m pretty, so it’s worth it,” Virgil said, tossing their head so the long hair on the top of their undercut swished. They were wearing a distressed band tee and a black skater skirt over fishnet leggings and a pair of doc martens. It was quite chilly out, and even though they were wearing a hoodie too, Roman understood why Remus had been concerned. 

“You _are_ very pretty,” Roman told them seriously. Even aside from their clearly carefully chosen outfit, this was true. Their eyes were round and curious and a captivating shade of dark brown. Even with the boost from the platform of the shoes they were wearing, they were tiny. Roman was sure they couldn’t be more than 5’2” without the boots. The hair on top of their undercut was _very_ long, almost down to their waist, contrasting with the closely-shaved back and sides of their head. About six inches on the ends of their hair were dyed purple. Their makeup, of course, was flawless, as was their golden-brown skin, which was just a little bit darker than Roman’s. He made a mental note to ask them about their skincare routine sometime; no matter how much care he treated his skin with, the acne on his cheeks refused to go away. It was his least favorite side effect of taking testosterone. “But you can be pretty _and_ warm at the same time, if you want. I hate being cold. But I respect your decision to be pretty and cold if you want to,” he added quickly. 

Virgil let out a slightly nervous laugh, rubbing the back of their neck. “Thanks, I think.” Their eyes widened as they looked past him. “Oh, my _god,_ Remus, shut _up!”_

“What?” Roman asked, looking over at Remus, who was giving Virgil an evil grin. 

“Nothing,” Virgil snapped. 

“I didn’t _say_ anything,” Remus said innocently.

“Shut _up!”_ Virgil repeated, flipping the hood of their hoodie up and dragging it over their face.

“What’s going _on?”_ Roman asked, confused, while Remus burst into cackles of laughter. 

_“Nothing!”_ Virgil repeated with great emphasis. 

Roman let out a sigh of frustration, but Virgil seemed genuinely upset about whatever Remus had done when Roman wasn’t looking, so he dropped it. Maybe Remus would explain later. 

Remus did not explain later; however, he did turn around to walk backwards after the silence had stretched on long enough to become awkward. “Is the ocean a soup? Discuss,” he commanded. 

“Oh, not this again!” Roman groaned. “No, absolutely not!” 

“Yes,” Virgil said, almost as soon as Roman stopped talking. 

_“No!”_ Roman stamped his foot. “That makes no _sense!”_

“It makes _lots_ of sense. Explain how it’s _not_ soup,” Virgil challenged.

The resulting argument lasted them all the way to the ice cream shop and halfway through their treats. 

“Aren’t you going to take a side?” Roman demanded of Remus at last.

Remus looked up from his cone. “Oh, no, this is very entertaining for me, I could watch you two bicker all month. Please keep it up.” 

“You’re a terrible person,” Roman told him, trying not to laugh. 

“I never claimed to be anything else,” Remus said happily. 

***

“—and that’s how you do it. It’s really easy, but it’s _so_ fun, I could balance chemical equations for _hours,”_ Remus said, bopping the tip of his dry-erase marker against the giant whiteboard in the library for emphasis. He and Roman and Virgil had all met up here to study; it was a sunny afternoon, and they’d gotten a nice spot by the window. The marker left a little black mark next to the diagram Remus had spent the last ten minutes drawing; he wiped the dot away with his finger. He was wearing a turtleneck with horizontal black-and-white stripes and a pair of faded jeans with paint splatters all over them and huge rips in the front that ran from his mid-thighs almost down to his ankles; he’d finished the outfit off with socks in sandals and a black felt beret. His outfit—vaguely artistic, but mostly just terrible—contrasted comically with the intensely technical pseudo-lecture on chemistry he’d just given. 

Roman nodded without looking up. “I remember balancing those was fun,” he agreed. He hadn’t taken a chemistry class in a couple of years now, but Remus was majoring in it, and the best way for Remus to study was to explain it out loud, so he’d gathered Roman and Virgil in the library. They’d even been able to snag one of the coveted whiteboards. Roman was able to focus on his notes better with Remus’s animated talking in the background, and Virgil preferred quiet but was willing to put on his headphones to block out Remus’s noise, so all in all this arrangement worked out well for all three of them. 

“Yes!” Remus agreed with a happy wiggle. He picked up his water bottle off the table and took a long sip. “Okay, next I have a bunch of molecules I have to memorize the structures of. Do you need anything first?” He addressed his question to both of them, but Virgil seemed pretty focused—or perhaps his music was loud enough to drown out other noises.

Roman, however, thought the question over. “Yes, actually, can you help me go over my lines for this one scene? It’s not very long.” 

“Mmhm.” Remus held out his hands expectantly, and Roman handed him his script. Remus began fiddling with the dog-eared bottom corner of the page it was open to, folding it back and forth. 

Roman dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts—he liked cargo shorts, partly for the shape but mostly for the pockets—and handed Remus a star-shaped fidget toy made of sequins that could be flipped back and forth. He’d rather the corner of the script didn’t get torn off by mistake. 

“I think I’m off book, I just want to make sure,” he said as Remus accepted the toy and began fidgeting with it. 

Remus nodded, scanning the page. “Sounds good. It’s just this one page?”

“Yeah. Ready?”

Remus nodded, and Roman launched into the scene. His character had most of the lines; it was essentially a glorified monologue. Remus interjected the two lines from other characters, using a hilarious nasally voice that made it hard for Roman to stay in character without breaking to laugh, but he successfully made it through the final line before dissolving into snickers. 

“You’re word-perfect, kid,” Remus proclaimed as Roman got ahold of himself, handing him back the script. 

Roman grinned. “Thank you!” 

Remus nodded and took another sip of water before wiping down the whiteboard and launching into a ramble about the molecular structures he had to memorize. 

Roman had just about tuned Remus out again and slipped back into the headspace where he could focus on his work when Remus broke off. _“Logan!”_ he exclaimed, sounding delighted. 

Roman looked up, and so did Virgil, pulling off hir headphones. Roman followed Remus’s gaze, and there indeed was Logan, his flat top haircut and dark academia outfit unmistakeable. He was stepping out of the stairwell that led down from the floor above, adjusting the strap of the leather messenger bag they used instead of a backpack. Even at this distance, the pins he kept on the bag were visible, neatly affixed in alternating rows on the bag’s buckle straps—a demiboy flag, an aromantic flag, an enamel pin shaped like an open book, and a handful of other pins Logan had collected from the university’s cultural centers during orientation. Roman had a few of that last category on his backpack himself; he knew he and Logan had matching land acknowledgment pins now, but he wasn’t sure if any of the other pins they’d chosen matched.

Remus darted across the wide open floor, weaving his way around a few students. “Logan! Hi!” 

Logan looked up, a small smile finding its way onto his face as he saw Remus. He said something—presumably a greeting—but was too far away for Roman to hear, since he was speaking at a normal tone. 

Remus seized Logan by the hand and dragged them towards Roman and Virgil. Logan laughed and said something in protest, pushing his square glasses up his wide nose as he followed Remus. 

“Remus, I have to go to class,” Logan was insisting as they got close enough for Roman to hear. “Hello, Roman. Virgil.” They adjusted their already-immaculate clothing, the tendons in their thin hands flexing as they smoothed their mustard-brown cable knit sweater vest and tugged on the rolled-up sleeves of their periwinkle button down shirt. 

Virgil gave a two-fingered salute. “Sup.” 

“Hi Logan,” Roman said happily. “We’re studying!” 

“Very nice,” Logan said, raising Remus’s hand—which was still clasping his own—and gently pressing it with their other hand. “I am always glad to see you, Remus, but I can’t stay long.” 

“Okay,” Remus said. “I just wanted to say hi.” He gave Logan a quick, tight hug around the ribs before releasing them just as fast as he’d darted in. 

Logan smiled again. “Hello, then. I hope your studying is going well?” 

He received nods from the group, and gave them his own nod in return. 

“You’ve got to go,” Remus reminded him. “You don’t like to be late.” 

“True. I’ll see you later, dear.” 

Remus nodded. “Wanna hang out tomorrow night?” 

Logan considered this. “Maybe. I’m going to the Black Student Union meeting tomorrow evening. So it would have to be after that.”

“Okay, I can do that! I love you!” 

Logan smiled. “I love you too, Rem.” They made as if to leave, then paused. “Roman, while I’m thinking of it—are you and Patton still free for lunch tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Roman confirmed. Logan and Patton had two classes together, and so together with Roman they’d formed a tight-knit little friend group very quickly; the three of them tried to make sure to meet up for lunch at least once a week. 

“Wonderful. I’ll text our groupchat about it. See you then.” Logan tugged his hand out of Remus’s grip, waved, and set off at a brisk pace back towards the stairs. 

***

“I’m _telling_ you, Virgil, Oberon and Titania are a really good example of how soulmates can make it through rough patches!” 

“Bullshit. They’re obviously not a metaphor for soulmates, why would the fae even _have_ soulmates? Their story is a cautionary tale,” Virgil said languidly, lying on their back on the floor of their room. 

“No!” Roman pounded his fist on the floor. “Why do you _always_ do this?”

“Because it’s funny,” Virgil replied with a snicker. 

“But you always bash on _soulmates,_ specifically!” Roman said. 

“Yeah, because I think society’s emphasis on soulbonds is dumb.” Virgil shrugged. “Anyway, if you think Oberon and Titania’s relationship is a good example of _anything,_ I have some concerns.” 

“No—no, stop! I didn’t mean it like that! They’re fae, like _you_ said. I _obviously_ don’t condone any of the ways they treated each other! I’m just saying that viewing them as a metaphor for soulmates makes a really interesting lens to view the other couples in the play! Right, Logan?” He turned expectantly to Logan.

“Wh— _no,”_ Logan, who was sitting on Remus’s bed and combing their fingers through Remus’s hair, his head in their lap, responded. “You are both, objectively, wrong. _Horribly_ so. _Painfully_ so.” 

“Hey! You’re not allowed to tell me I’m wrong about Shakespeare,” Roman countered quickly. 

“Why did you _ask_ me for my opinion, then?” Logan asked, rolling their eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Roman grumbled. 

“Wait, why can’t they talk to you about Shakespeare?” Virgil asked. 

“Because they always win!” Roman crossed his arms. 

“Oh, and I don’t?” Virgil demanded. “What am I to you, Roman? I thought we had something special here,” they went on playfully. “You make dumb arguments, I make worse ones, and then I win. I thought that _meant_ something to you.” They pouted at him. 

“That’s _different!”_ Roman protested, stifling giggles at the mopey puppy dog eyes Virgil was sending him. “You just don’t care what I say. Logan actually _refutes_ my arguments! It’s _very_ humiliating!” 

“I only do it because your logic is _physically painful_ to listen to,” Logan said. 

Roman crossed his arms and pointedly turned away from Logan, nose in the air. “ _Anyway._ As I was saying. Puck’s role in all of this is really interesting, if you consider the question: are the fae supposed to be able to truly _alter_ soulbonds, or are they only messing with _feelings?”_

“Dear,” Logan said plaintively, looking down at Remus, his fingers still carding through Remus’s curls. 

“Hmm?” Remus responded, not opening his eyes. 

“Make them stop,” Logan said beseechingly. 

“Sorry fellas, you heard them. Stop torturing Logan, he’s already an English major, so he’s plenty tortured already. Or else I’ll have to dissect your spleens.” Remus wagged a finger in Roman and Virgil’s direction. 

“What a terrible fate that would be,” Roman commented, flopping over to lie on the floor beside Virgil. 

Seconds later, his phone buzzed; he pulled it out to see a text notification from Virgil. 

_oberon sucks btw_

_Oh, it is ON!_

Roman grinned as he sent the response, already anticipating the thrill of the argument that was about to ensue. He felt a warm thrill in his chest at Virgil’s answering chuckle—it was good to know Virgil was having fun with this too. 

***

“—so I was hanging out with Virgil the other day at the library cafe, and he said The Tempest was dumb because magic solves everything.” Roman was lying on the floor of his dorm, tossing a bouncy ball up in the air and catching it over and over again. Logan was sitting at Roman’s desk, legs up and crossed on the seat of the chair as he worked on readings for an English class, half-listening to Roman’s rambling. “And that since it solved all the problems, it made no sense for Prospero to give it up. Which was _completely_ ignoring all the bad stuff magic had done and the symbolism of him throwing it away!” 

“What did Remus have to say about that?” Logan inquired with a small laugh, not looking up from the copy of _Frankenstein_ in his hands. 

“What? Oh, nothing. Remus wasn’t there.”

“Oh?” Logan blinked, glancing up from the book.

“Yeah, we were at the library getting Starbucks, we do that on Wednesdays now. Remus was in his history class, I’m pretty sure.” 

“I didn’t know you and Virgil hung out together,” Logan said, raising their eyebrows. 

“Oh, we don’t, we just get coffee on Wednesdays, it’s different,” Roman said. 

Logan stared at him. “...What?” 

“Like, we only hang out on our own time to get Starbucks and then argue about Shakespeare. It’s really fun! It’s a great system, honestly. And this way, you don’t yell at me about Shakespeare or text Remus rant essays about what you think I’m getting wrong!” 

Logan looked away, a _very_ called-out expression on his face. “You weren’t supposed to see those…” 

“Oh, Remus didn’t show me, I just broke into his phone the other day and it was open to your texts,” Roman said reassuringly. 

“Why would you _break into—”_ Logan began, not seeming reassured in the slightest. 

“I needed to check his calendar to see if he was available to come with me to the grocery store,” Roman explained. “You know we’re really good at guessing each other’s passcodes. He doesn’t mind, we break into each other’s phones all the time.” He paused, assessing Logan’s face, trying to gauge if their expression was upset or not. “I’m sorry I read the texts, though,” he added, just in case it had hurt their feelings. “I only saw the very end of it, it wasn't on purpose or anything. Promise.” 

Logan sighed. “I know. It’s alright.” He reached across the space between them to press the back of Roman’s hand. 

Roman grinned. “Only you would come up with a whole essay in a text,” he teased. “Dunno what I expected, really.” 

“It wasn’t an _essay,”_ Logan said defensively. “Technically speaking.” 

“I dunno, it sure _looked_ like if you formatted it with MLA, you could turn it in for a grade.” Roman giggled. “But hey, what do I know?” 

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the doorknob rattled with the sound of keys. 

Patton stepped in. “Hey! If it isn’t some of my favorite people!” he greeted the two of them with a smile. His dark, wavy hair was a little ruffled. Normally he combed it to the side, but Roman remembered it had been windy today, so Roman guessed that was responsible for the irregularity. “How are you doing?” Patton asked the two of them. 

“Better now that you’re here,” Roman told him with an answering grin. “How’s your day been?” He’d noticed that Patton _really_ liked being asked how his day had gone. 

Sure enough, Patton’s smile spread a little wider. “Pretty good, thanks! I haven’t had too much to do today, which is nice. How are _you_ doing, Logan?” He sat down on the floor beside Roman, sliding his backpack off his shoulders. 

Roman immediately sat up and scooted over to lean against Patton—he was an _excellent_ cuddler; he was tall and chubby and he ran warm, and Roman liked cuddles. He tended towards understimulation rather than overstimulation, and hugs were one of his favorite things. Patton was always happy to supply. 

“I’m alright, thank you,” Logan said as Patton wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders. “A little underslept, but otherwise good.” 

“Good, good. You should sleep more. Are you both busy?” Patton asked. 

“No,” Roman said, because Patton always had fun ideas. 

Logan pursed his lips, glancing down at the book in his hands in consideration. “I can finish this chapter later. Why?” 

“Oh, I was just wondering if either of you wanted to play a board game,” Patton said. He and Roman had each brought a couple from their homes, and together they had quite the little collection. 

“Yes!” Roman agreed eagerly, breaking away from Patton and crossing to the shelf where they kept the games. “How about Clue?” 

“I _will_ decimate you both,” Logan said, deadly serious, adjusting their glasses and scooting to the floor. 

“All part of the fun, Specs.” Roman pulled out the box and set it down between them. “Dibs on the red piece!” 

***

“—so I told him that was utter bullshit—not in so many words, of course—and listed off the reasons why, and he simply did not seem to recognize how completely nonexistent his logic was, he just kept repeating his original points louder and louder.” Logan punctuated his rant about a classmate with hand gestures as he walked next to Roman on the sidewalk. 

“I hate guys like that,” Roman said, making a face. 

Logan nodded. “But I got full credit on my discussion post when I typed up my argument and I _cannot_ imagine he got the same, based on his talking points. So.” He shrugged, clearly trying not to look too smug with himself. 

“Good job!” Roman told them. 

“Thank you.” Logan’s happiness was palpable. “How have—”

“Logan!” Remus’s voice shouted. 

Roman looked in the direction of the noise; they were almost an entire block away still from the quad, where they’d agreed to meet Remus, but he seemed to have spotted them. He was sprinting at full speed directly towards them. 

“Oh, dear,” Logan said, the exasperation in his voice belied by the grin on their face. They took a step back and braced themself, just in time. 

Remus full-on tackled Logan in a hug, colliding into him at full speed. Logan stumbled back a couple of steps, but successfully avoided falling over. “Hello, Remus,” he said composedly, wrapping their arms around Remus and returning the enthusiastic hug. “How are you?” 

“Much better now. I _missed_ you,” Remus said into Logan’s shoulder. “Normal people get all weird about it when I tell them cool murder facts. You're much cooler than normal people.” 

“It has been twenty-seven hours and about thirty minutes since you last saw me,” Logan informed him. “And thirteen minutes since we last texted.” They rumpled his curls, which fell messily in loose spirals about his face; they were mostly about chin length, although some of them were choppily trimmed shorter than others. Remus was very insistent about cutting his own hair. It was always mildly disastrous, but he insisted he liked it that way. He’d dyed it himself, too; he’d bleached a streak at the very front of his head and dyed it silver about a month before college started, with a surprising amount of success. 

“Yeah, and I missed you.” Remus stepped back from the hug as Logan released him. “Also hi Roman, I guess.” He tossed Roman a grin. 

“You are a terrible brother sometimes,” Roman informed him. “Hi.” 

“Uh, I think you mean all the time,” Remus corrected him. “I’m joking,” he added. “C’mon, I got Starbucks for us! I have extra meal credits!” He seized Logan’s hand and reached invitingly for Roman’s. 

Roman let Remus grab his hand, too, and his brother immediately began dragging both Roman and Logan at a slightly breakneck pace down the sidewalk. Several students dove out of their way until he dragged them to a halt by the food truck, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waiting expectantly. 

Not even a moment later, the barista placed three cups on the delivery window tray and called out Remus’s name. 

“Yes!” Remus pumped his fist, darted over, and picked up two of the cups—Roman recognized Remus and Logan’s go-to coffee orders, a trenta mango-dragonfruit refresher and a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew with extra ice. Roman picked up the last cup, a warm drink in a grande cup; he sniffed to check what it was even though he knew what Remus usually got him. Steamed apple juice with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top—his favorite as a kid and still one of his favorites now. He wrapped his hands around the warm cup and followed Remus and Logan over to a sunny patch on the lawn. 

Remus sprawled out, taking up more space than seemed humanly possible for one person to fill; Logan tucked their legs beneath them as they sat beside Remus and began pulling out a textbook, a dog-eared novel, and a handful of pens and pencils from their backpack. 

Roman sat so that he completed the triangle between the three of them, his legs crossed so he could lean his cup against them between sips and not worry about knocking it over. 

“Thank you for the coffee, Remus,” Logan said, his cup halfway to his lips as he flipped through the worn novel. 

Roman nodded in agreement, breathing in the warm cinnamon scent of the apple juice. 

“Of course!” Remus said exuberantly, taking a noisy slurp of his drink. 

Roman and Logan both winced slightly. 

“Could you be a little quieter, there?” Logan asked mildly. 

“How dare you.” Remus clutched his heart, leaning back so far Roman was surprised he didn’t lose his balance and fall over. 

Logan sighed, reaching over and placing a hand over Remus’s, gripped around the edge of the cup’s lid. “At least please be careful not to splash,” he said, guiding Remus’s hand downwards until the cup came to rest on the ground. “This textbook cost rather a lot and I’d like to sell it back in a decent condition at the end of the term.” 

Remus let go of the cup, leaving it to rest where it was, and leaned forward. He took Logan’s face in both of his hands and looked seriously into their eyes. “Hey. You are my best friend in the whole world and you mean everything to me. I love you and I’m so glad we’re soulmates. But I draw the line at stopping my annoying behavior for anything less than a natural disaster.” He released Logan and picked his drink back up. “I promise I won’t spill on your book, though,” he added lightly. “Roman gets no such promises.” 

“You wouldn’t _dare,_ you know I _hate_ being sticky—” Roman began heatedly. 

“Okay, okay. Jesus. You two are really conspiring to foil all my chaotic little gremlin dealings today. I’ll order an ice water to spill on you instead, will that make you happy?” Remus snickered. 

Roman frowned. “If you must,” he begrudgingly agreed, since this seemed the closest thing to a compromise he was likely to get out of Remus. He suspected it might be a joke anyway, but he wasn’t sure about that and didn’t want to take any chances. 

But Remus didn’t return to the food truck, so it seemed likely that it _was_ a joke after all. Instead, he devoted himself to more noisy slurping, crossing his eyes and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“You’re the tallest one of us,” Roman said after a moment. 

“Huh?” Remus looked up at him.

“He has a point, dear,” Logan said, turning a page. 

“Like yeah I know I am, but what’s the point?” Remus asked. 

“You said we were foiling your chaotic _little_ gremlin dealings,” Roman elaborated. “You’re, like, fucking… six two.” 

“And a half,” Remus added. “Emotionally, I am a chaotic creature of spite who’s about three five and can sneeze fire, though.” 

“That makes no sense,” Roman protested. 

“Does too,” Remus responded, crossing his arms. 

“It does,” Logan agreed. “For example, emotionally, I punch that one classmate in the face twice a week, but we can’t always embody what we want to be. And you, Roman—emotionally, you’re very invested in Shakespeare, but in actuality, your interpretations are painfully bad.” 

“Hey. You talking about me and Shakespeare is off limits. We’ve discussed this.” Roman waved a warning finger at them. 

“I still think that’s unfair and have raised a motion to reject and overturn the ban.” 

“Unfortunately for you, the judge and jury are my feelings, and you _hurt_ them, Logan. Shakespeare and I have something _special_. You need to stop trying to come between us like this.” 

Logan glanced up from his book to give Roman a singularly unimpressed look. “You are preposterous.” 

Roman beamed at him and made a heart shape with his hands, holding it up like a picture frame to look at Logan through. “But you loooooove me,” he singsonged. 

Logan nodded. “This is true.” 

“You’re both nerds and Shakespeare isn’t even that good,” Remus put in, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“I’m divorcing you,” Logan said immediately. 

“Noooo, come back!” Remus dramatically grasped at the air as if reaching out from afar for Logan. 

“Fine.” Logan shrugged. “Then Roman’s disowning you.” 

“Hey, that’s my line!” 

“He can’t disown me, he’d miss me,” Remus said confidently. “Y’all are stuck with me.” He looked very pleased with himself. 

There was silence for a beat, then all three of them burst into laughter. 

“I’m really glad we’re all friends,” Remus said happily, leaning back and taking another long sip of his drink. 

“Yeah,” Roman agreed. 

“I don’t know,” Logan said, holding back a smirk. “Sometimes I think about a world where I don’t have to deal with a pair of himbos every day of my life.” He maintained his faux-serious face for all of the three seconds it took both twins to start pelting him with ripped-up blades of grass, then devolved into helpless laughter again. 

***

“Patton, you good? You’ve been kind of spaced out all day.” 

“Huh?” Patton looked up, blinking through his round gold-rimmed glasses. “Yeah, I’m okay! Just… boy problems, I guess? Which is… it’s new.” He wrinkled his nose for a second in a face of dissatisfaction before smoothing his face back into a smile. 

“Oh? Want to talk about it?” Roman asked eagerly, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands, interest _definitely_ piqued.

“I don’t know…” Patton glanced away. “It’s complicated. And it’s probably not a big deal.” 

“ _Patton._ We are _friends._ The _main purpose_ of friends is gossiping about crushes.” Roman crossed his arms. “I am offended that you would ever doubt my capacity for talking about boys in a gay way.” 

“I don’t think that’s the _main_ purpose of friendship,” Patton said, but his smile looked more genuine. 

“Shush, I know that, I’m being dramatic. How about a movie night and you can spill the deets in a cozy setting with popcorn? And Logan?” 

“I mean… okay,” Patton relented. “It’s probably not as exciting as you’re hoping for, though, I’m sorry.” 

“Nonsense. You are perfect and so is everything you do,” Roman said absently, pulling out his phone and FaceTiming Logan. 

“ _Roman!_ You’re sweet, but you _know_ you shouldn’t go around passing out compliments that should go to _you,”_ Patton said. 

“Oh, _stop,”_ Roman said, grinning wide. 

Logan picked up on the second ring. “What do you need, Roman?”

“To see your gorgeous face, nerd. Also we’re having a movie night at me and Pat’s, attendance mandatory. Seven works, right? Pat’s having boy problems.” 

Logan stared at Roman with a blank face for _several_ beats. “And… you want me there to help… why?” he deadpanned. 

“Shut up, you have a nonromantic boy toy, you’re basically qualified to help.”

“Don’t call Remus that! He’s a _person,_ not a—wait, he’s your _brother,_ Roman, that’s _worse,_ that’s so _weird—”_

“—Anyway, I can _more_ than handle giving Patton plenty of terrible advice on his love life,” Roman interrupted. “You’re there to tell him everything I say is a terrible idea and let me throw popcorn at you. We can watch Big Hero Six. C’mon, it’ll be fun!” 

Logan heaved a sigh. “Fine. But you have to put your dad’s curry powder on the popcorn.” 

“What kind of man do you take me for, Logan? Of _course_ we’ll have curry popcorn! See you at seven, love you, bye bye.” Roman blew a kiss and hung up. 

After his English class, Roman grabbed a burrito from the dining hall and hurried back to the dorm, making it there at half past six. Patton was already back; he made hot chocolate while Roman microwaved popcorn and tossed it in a bowl with curry powder.

At precisely seven o'clock, there was a knock on the door; Roman let Logan in and the three of them climbed into the nest of pillows and blankets Patton had built on the bottom bunk, pushing aside the bi pride flag and the Puerto Rican flag Patton had hung like curtains around his bunk. 

“So,” Roman said eagerly as the movie’s opening bot fight began on the laptop screen, turning to Patton and bouncing (Logan grabbed the popcorn bowl out of Roman’s lap as it jostled), “spill!” 

Patton squirmed under the attention, a half-hidden smile ghosting its way onto his face. “I don’t know… what should I talk about?”

“What’s he like?” Roman asked. “How do you know him? Is he cute? Have you got his number?” 

“Oh, wow—that’s a lot.” Patton giggled nervously. 

“Okay, start with _is he cute?”_

“He’s really cute,” Patton allowed, biting back another smile. “He’s got all these freckles all over his face and neck and hands, and his eyebrows are really expressive—he gets this really serious face when he’s thinking, and it’s… _really_ pretty.”

“Eyes?” Roman demanded. “How are his eyes?”

“I mean, they’re eyes? They’re this kind of greyish blueish color. I don’t know, I try not to stare, especially when he’s looking, you know?” 

“Okay, that’s fair,” Roman relented. “What else? Is he fashionable?”

“I—not really, honestly. He mostly just wears longsleeve tees and jeans. Sometimes beanies. He has these really cute yellow converse that he always wears, though. He, like—oh, gosh, I’m not sure how to describe it. He’s not, like, _fashionable_ like you asked, but he—kind of the way he holds himself makes it seem like he is? He wears his clothes well, I think is maybe the phrase.”

Roman nodded. “Alright. Do you know whether or not he’s queer?” 

Patton hesitated. “Um… I’m not sure. I don’t know either way. But he was the only one that laughed at a bi pun I made one time, and he wore a pink shirt and yellow belt with faded jeans one time, which I might be reading _way_ too much into but it sure _looked_ like a sneaky pastel pan flag.”

Roman nodded very seriously, taking mental notes. “All good signs. Anything else? Any stickers on his laptop or water bottle? Pins on his backpack?” 

Patton shook his head. “They’re, like, _super_ empty. He doesn’t really do anything that tells people about his personality. His outfits are usually really plain, like I said, and everything. It’s weird, because he’s got _such_ a distinct personality, and he really doesn’t seem like someone who’d leave his stuff unpersonalized. It’s like he’s afraid of something, or something.” Patton was silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But then, he seems kind of nervous around me in general.” He looked away, a worried expression crossing his face. 

“Maybe he likes you back?” Roman suggested. “Plenty of people get nervous around their crushes.” 

Patton shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think I know what the thing worrying him is. I just… don’t know how to talk about it with him.” 

“You do realize you’re being super vague here, right?” Roman queried; he couldn’t parse what on _earth_ Patton meant by that, but his curiosity was piqued. 

“I know.” Patton bit his lip. “I, um, don’t want to talk about it yet, I think. It’s complicated. I don’t think it would be fair to him to discuss it with others.” 

“Oh.” Roman did his best to hide his disappointment. “Okay, that’s fine. How do you know him?” 

His attempt to change the subject didn’t seem to ease Patton’s discomfort, based on the way his shoulders drew up even closer to his ears. “...Kind of from a class we’re in together?” he answered after a long pause. “We’re partners on a group project.” 

“Sounds like a meet cute to me,” Roman said, searching again for new lines of questioning that would hopefully not be as upsetting for mysterious and unknown reasons. “What do you like about him?” 

Patton lit up. “He’s really sweet, actually. It takes some looking to see it, because he’s got a _lot_ of walls up, but you can tell he’s really thoughtful and observant, and he’s really warming up to me, I think—he’s being much nicer to me than most people, and I’m starting to think he really _means_ it and _wants_ to be nice to me just to be nice, not because he feels like he has to.” 

“Well, of course he’d be nice to you, you’re like the sweetest person I’ve met in my life,” Roman said, feeling bewildered by this line of reasoning. 

“No, I—oh, nevermind. I was worried he wasn’t genuinely being nice for a while, but I’m really starting to think he means it, is my point. Anyway, he’s really smart—he’s so good at like, you know, synthesizing stuff? He’s really good at finding the information we need and paraphrasing it in a way that works really well for our project. I have such a hard time wording things how I want, you know? So it’s awesome that he can do that so well. And he’s good at puns, too! He tries not to laugh, but he scrunches his nose up and gets really red cheeks so you can always tell, it’s really cute. And one time I was trying to explain to our professor he was wrong about something, but I was kind of having trouble getting my point across, the teacher didn’t seem to get it, and he just spoke up and pointed out exactly where the misunderstanding was. It was really nice and reassuring of him. He just seems really protective of people he cares about, you know?” 

“He sounds great, Pat!” Roman agreed. 

Patton nodded, giving an excited little wiggle. 

The brief silence was broken by a quiet crunching noise. Roman looked to his other side to see Logan, eyes fixed on the movie, who had worked their way through a solid third of the popcorn. 

“Oh, you _fiend!”_ Roman cried, seizing the popcorn bowl back since he was sitting in the middle. 

“What?” Logan defended himself exasperatedly. “You two seemed to be handling that just fine! I like this movie! Neither of you asked for the popcorn back! What did I do?” 

“...Okay, technically nothing,” Roman admitted after considering this defense and finding it to be unfortunately solid and covering all of Logan’s bases. God, they knew him too well. “But we are _supposed_ to be doing this as a group.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Patton, he’s probably queer. You should ask him out and see what happens. Happy now?” 

“Wh—how are you saying that with such confidence?” Roman demanded. 

“Which part?”

“That he’s queer. I agree Patton should _definitely_ ask him out at the first opportunity, we just hadn’t gotten to that yet.” 

“I mean, I can’t say for sure, but being the _only_ person in a classroom to react to a queer joke is pretty telling.” Logan shrugged. “Any other relevant details?” 

Patton shrugged. “I don’t know. Janus—that’s the guy—he doesn’t talk about himself very much—”

“Hold on, Janus?” Logan interrupted. “Lanky white guy? Constantly acts like he’s just swallowed a lemon? Kind of a twink? Looks incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin? Growing his hair out?” 

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Patton admitted. “You could maybe be nicer about him, though.” 

“I’m sure I could,” Logan said, seeming unconcerned. “Yeah, I know him. He’s queer, I’m pretty sure he’s compatible with you. No idea if he’d be interested, or frankly what you see in him, but go for it.” 

“Wh—how do _you_ know him?” Roman demanded. “I feel left out now!” 

“We met at the Aspec—at a pride center identity group. Also he’s Remus’s roommate’s best friend. They’re practically attached at the hip. I’m surprised you haven’t met him yet, with how much you hang out over there lately.” 

Virgil had a best friend? A best friend _here,_ at college? That was news. Surprisingly unpleasant news—Roman wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t like he disliked Virgil to the point of _not wanting them to have friends!_ Of course not! Frankly, he was _glad_ to hear the tiny emo had a social life. It just kind of stung that this was the first time he was hearing about someone evidently so important to Virgil. And not even from hir own mouth. He’d kind of thought they were closer than that. That he’d have learned basic facts about what and who was important to Virgil by now. Learning otherwise was a remarkably unpleasant experience. 

Logan took another handful of popcorn out of the bowl in Roman’s hands, startling Roman out of his thoughts. 

“Stop!” he yelped. “I want some, too!” 

“You have more if this bag runs out,” Logan pointed out. “I have some extra popcorn in my dorm too. And you’ve been holding out on me with your curry powder.” He popped another handful into his mouth and crossed his arms. 

“If you just _asked_ my parents, you could have some of your own! They’d even give you the recipe! Now share with Patton!” Roman leaned himself and the popcorn bowl away from Logan, trying not to laugh. 

“I don’t mind,” Patton put in. “It’s very tasty, but I’m not as attached as Logan is.” 

“No, you have to take some, he’s been hogging it,” Roman insisted. 

“I don’t mind!” Patton insisted. Roman shoved the bowl in his face, and he relented and took a handful.

“Let Logan have some more now,” Patton said, gently pushing the bowl back into Roman’s lap. 

“Thank you,” Logan said primly when Roman relented. 

“You’re welcome!” Patton said with an easy smile. The smile fell away after a moment, though, and he looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure about asking Janus out, though,” he said hesitantly. 

“Why not?” Roman asked. “You really sound interested in him! What have you got to lose?” 

“It’s more complicated than that,” Patton said, worrying the edge of a blanket between his fingers. “I’m not sure if he’d be comfortable with it. I don’t—I don’t know.” He looked away. “I’ll figure it out, I guess.” He looked back at Roman and Logan, forcing a smile onto his face. “Thank you both for the advice, though. And for listening.”

“Patton—” Roman began, concerned.

Patton shook his head. “Let’s just watch the movie now, okay? Really. Thank you. But I’m good for now. Can I have some more popcorn?” 

Logan wordlessly held out the bowl and Roman allowed himself to be mostly distracted by Big Hero Six. He felt better when Patton leaned on his shoulder, a genuine smile on his face as he watched Fred goofing around on the screen. Whatever the issue Patton was dealing with was, at least it didn’t seem big enough to keep bothering him after putting it aside.

***

“So,” Remus said with an evil grin.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to know,” Roman said. They were both sprawled on Remus’s bed, sharing earbuds as Remus swiped through TikTok. 

“It’s nothing!” Remus protested. 

Roman gave him a suspicious look. Remus’s face was _entirely_ too innocent. 

“I was just wondering when you’re going to get your shit together and do something about your crush on Virgil,” Remus said, the evil grin back.

“My what?” Roman did a double take. “I—I don’t have a _crush_ on _Virgil,_ we barely even get along!” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. The tension between you two is so high I’m surprised something hasn’t snapped yet. And you _definitely_ have a crush.” 

“I do not!” Roman grabbed Remus’s pillow and threw it in his brother’s face. “We’re barely even friends!” 

Remus shoved the pillow aside and rested his chin on top of it, making a skeptical face. 

“I mean, are they _really_ pretty? Sure. But that’s not a _crush,”_ Roman insisted. 

“Mmhm. Okay. So what makes it not a crush?” Remus pressed. 

“I—well—” Roman stammered, flustered by the very question. 

“Uh-huh.”

“No!” Roman snapped, voice cracking. “I just—that’s a hard question to answer right off the bat! How do _you_ define a crush? It’s just _not,_ okay?” 

“I mean, I define crush as, like…” Remus paused. “Huh. Okay. You have a point, or whatever. I guess… a crush is, like—huh. No. Okay. You’re distracting me. I’m teasing you about your crush that you totally _do_ have, we are _not_ veering off topic.” 

“I do _not_ have a crush on Virgil! I just want to be his friend! Okay?” 

Remus made a skeptical face. “Sure, whatever you say. I’m still going to tease you about it.” 

“Oh, whenever you find that third soulmate, I am getting _so much_ revenge.” 

“Eh.” Remus shrugged. “Like, go for it, but I dunno if you’ll have that much time to tease me about it before we get together. You know? Like, think about me and Logan.” 

“Logan knew you were soulmates for _two and a half years_ before you got togeth—”

“Yeah, because he’s smart, but _I_ didn’t figure it out until _thirty minutes_ before we got together. Or like. Thirty minutes before we started talking about it. You _know_ this.” 

Roman crossed his arms. This was unfortunately a very good point; the day Remus had figured out that Logan was one of his soulmates had been a pretty memorable one even for Roman. Logan and the twins had grown up next door to each other, and had been best friends since elementary school. One Saturday morning near the end of their senior year of high school, Remus had bolted upright in bed while Roman was brushing his teeth, blurted out something nigh incomprehensible, and taken off at a sprint; he’d slammed the front door behind himself on his way out and he hadn’t answered any of Roman’s texts for two hours, only to show up by sprinting back into the house and screaming at the top of his lungs _“Logan and I are soulmates!”_

This had prompted a lot of confused questioning from Roman. He’d learned that yes, Remus and Logan were definitely soulmates; Logan had figured it out in sophomore year but hadn’t said anything; Remus had only just figured it out; yes, Logan was still aromantic; yes, Remus was still allo; no, neither of them felt like either of these facts was an issue; and Remus was _very_ happy. 

“We’re going on, like, a date, but platonic,” Remus had announced to him that day, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m really excited, this is so cool! Who’d have thought, right? Logan and me!” 

Roman had smiled and tried hard to just be happy for Remus and Logan, and not jealous of them. Particularly about two months later, when they’d made their relationship official and become queerplatonic partners. He _was_ happy for them! He was! 

But Remus had never _cared_ that much about finding his soulmates. Roman _had._ It didn’t feel fair. Remus, who didn’t care, got _two_ soulmates, and one of them was _literally_ his childhood best friend. Roman, who’d been daydreaming about finding his soulmate since he was too little to remember, and had learned just about everything there was to know about how soulbonds worked, seemed to have just the usual one soulmate. His soulbond hadn’t even _developed_ until he was sixteen—admittedly, that was an expected side effect of the puberty blockers he’d been on for a few years before he’d been approved for T, but he was still salty about it. And when his soulbond finally _had_ developed and he’d started tuning into his soulmate’s dreams, they were so _creepy!_ He wasn’t sure he’d had a _single_ souldream so far that wasn’t a _nightmare._ They ruined his sleep for the night whenever he got one. It was irritating and frustrating and all sorts of bad things; he’d actually cried over it a couple of times, not that anyone but Remus knew. 

But as annoying as it was for him, it had to be worse for his poor soulmate—if these nightmares were what was making it through the soulbond, he could only imagine how much worse their nightly sleep must be. 

He hoped he’d find them soon. He was _ready_ for a proper romance, thank you very much!

**Author's Note:**

> i thrive on kudos and comments <3 
> 
> come hang out with me on tumblr @ iclaimedtobethebetterbard !


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